“No,” I blurt, shaking my head. “I can’t do it.”
They both look at me in question. Rush’s brow furrows. “You just signed an agreement that says you will.”
“I mean I can’t start tomorrow. I have a personal commitment that I can’t break.”
“What could be more personal than the contract in your hand, Ms. Laurent?”
“I have an exam in the morning.” It’s not something I intended to explain to him, but he’s not giving me much choice. “International Business. It’s a requirement for my MBA.”
He seems surprised. “You’re a student?”
“Part-time.”
Although his brow is furrowed, his beard-shadowed, square jaw rises in acknowledgment. “All right, then. We can begin on Thursday morning. I’ll send my driver—”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fully capable of getting here on my own.”
It’s bad enough I had to provide my address for the contract. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow him to send one of his people out to fetch me.
Besides, what would my mother think?
I can’t even go there. I’m not going to tell her about any of this. She doesn’t need to worry about the choices I’m making—questionable as they may be right now. God knows she worried enough about Jen and her choices while my sister was alive.
I’m supposed to be the practical one. The level-headed one who’s always walked a careful, if boring, path.
The one who’s never let her, or anyone else, down.
“There’s a subway station a few blocks up the street. I’m used to taking the train into the city. I don’t need a ride.”
He acknowledges with a vague nod, but I can tell he’s not happy with my pushback. “Thursday morning, eight A.M., Ms. Laurent.” His deep voice makes it sound like a command.
“Fine,” I reply, amazed that I can sound so cool and unaffected when every cell in my body is crackling with the need to get away from this man and the unholy arrangement I’ve just entered into with him.
An arrangement that’s set to begin less than thirty-six hours from now.
Daniel thrusts out his hand and eagerly pumps Jared’s. While he offers more thanks and relief for Rush’s understanding tonight, I turn away and head for the door, folding the contract papers and stuffing them into my small evening bag.
I’m not sure I’m even breathing until I open one of the study’s heavy doors and step out to the brighter light of the opulent corridor outside. With my face in my hands, I sag back against the millwork of the wall as all the breath in my lungs gusts out of me on a shaky exhalation.
I’m furious with Daniel, but I’m even more upset with myself. And with Jared Rush.
“Oh, God. What have I done?”
“Is everything all right, Miss Laurent?”
Gibson’s quiet inquiry brings my head up with a jolt. I didn’t even notice he was standing in the hallway. Now, my face heats with added humiliation.
I force a smile, which feels fake and tight. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”
He gives me a dubious, if polite, look. Before he’s made to offer some lame response, Daniel exits the study. Thankfully, alone.
“We should go,” he says, glancing sheepishly at the silver-haired gentleman. “Goodnight, Gibson.”
“Mr. Hathaway, allow me to see Ms. Laurent and you out.” Gibson gestures for us to follow him back to the elevator we rode up on together. “I’ve already taken the liberty of having your car brought around. You’ll find it waiting for you outside.”
“Okay, thanks.”
As soon as the elevator doors open, Daniel grabs my hand and practically pulls me through the grand foyer. The tuxedoed doorman lets us out to the cool night air and it’s all I can do not to bolt for the idling car at the curb.
I slide into the passenger seat without meeting the valet’s eyes, feeling paranoid that everyone in Jared Rush’s employment knows I’ve just been bought by him.
I close my eyes, wishing I could blink and none of this would be real.
But it is real, all of it.
And for the duration of the drive to Queens, neither Daniel nor I seem capable of putting any of it into words.
He slows as we approach my modest house. Golden light and the flashing glare of the TV glows from behind the drawn curtains of the living room. Daniel pulls into the short driveway and puts the car in park.
When he turns off the engine, I glance at him in question. “What are you doing?”
“I’m a gentleman, Mel. I’m going to walk you to the door.”
“No.” My refusal comes out sharper than I mean it to, and the look of guilt and torment on his face deepens. “I can manage on my own. Besides, it’s late. Everyone is probably already asleep. I wouldn’t want to wake them.”
“Right. Of course, you’re right.” He reaches for my hand, clasping it between both of his. Shame edges his voice with a rawness I’ve never heard in him before. “Melanie . . . I’m sorry. Christ, I’m sorry about all of this.”
I don’t say anything. My confusion and anger with him is still ripe, even more so than my shock over what happened tonight in Jared Rush’s study.
“I’ll make this up to you, Mel. I swear, I will.”
“It’s late,” I murmur for a second time. “I really need to get inside.”
I pull my hand from his grasp and open the passenger door. As I climb out, he leans my way. “Melanie, I love you. You know that, right? What I said earlier tonight—that I love you more than anything else in my life—I meant it. I can’t lose you. Please, tell me you can forgive me for all of this.”
Can I? Right now, I’m not sure. But I give him a nod. It’s the only response I’m capable of when the world around me seems to be spinning out of control. I quietly close the car door behind me, then walk to the house.
My legs feel boneless beneath me, despite that my little purse feels ten pounds heavier with
